


Plus One

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Skynet [2]
Category: Castle Rock (TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Drama, Family, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Wings AU. The dust settles, and the rain lets up.Temporarily.





	Plus One

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place two weeks after _Skynet_. If you thought that was AU, this goes even more so.
> 
> The aforementioned fic is very much recommended reading. As is watching the pilot episode of _Castle Rock_.

Thunderstorms were typically of no consequence to humans. ****  
** **

But to their winged, android counterparts, there was reason to exercise caution. Lightning strikes were no joke, be it out in the middle of a Nebraska cornfield, on the green of a Floridian golf course, or at the top of a skyscraper in downtown Detroit. Experts agreed, the best way to discourage flights on rainy days was to preprogram their sensors accordingly. If the air carried too strong an electric charge, access to their wing motors was automatically throttled, inhibiting the repeated rate at which the wings could be beat. ****  
** **

And there was no override command. ****  
** **

The best one could do was flap haltingly and go nowhere. Suddenly, they were no more airworthy than extinct penguins. ****  
** **

RK800 Interceptors were no exception to this failsafe. ****  
** **

Inside at least, they were still able to reach the perches. Nick was above their desk per usual, in his regular position - knees up, arms around them, chin on his raised legs. But instead of his eyes being closed, drifting off like he normally did, his eyes were open, and narrowed down at Connor.  ****  
** **

The private argument between them continued to rage on, even if no one else could hear it.  ****  
** **

_All I'm saying is you don't have to be such a jerk! I know you want the weather to be better, we all do, and I'm sorry about that, but you can't take it out on me and Dennis. That's not nice, Connor._ ****  
** **

Without looking up, the android in question continued to type. ****  
** **

And argue on another tier, as multitasking to such a degree was a function of theirs. ****  
** **

_And all I’m saying is I have a right to be disgruntled. That search was perfectly legal, and the judge knew it!_ ****  
** **

_I'm not saying you don't, because I agree with you. But I'm saying is you can't get pissed off and then take it out on me or Dennis just because we're the easiest targets for you - no, we're the_ only _targets. We don't like it any more than you do._ ****  
** **

_Have you followed up on those interviews like Lieutenant Anderson asked? That would instantly assuage my bad mood - knowing you did something resembling_ work _today_ instead _of twiddling your thumbs._ ****  
** **

Nick scoffed, but let his knees drop, stretching again in preparation to go find said missing lieutenant. _Sure, I'll go ask about those interviews. It'll make me feel better, knowing you can stop glaring at that desk. If looks could kill, Connor, you would be a serial killer._ ****  
** **

With no further remarks, he hopped down semi-gracefully, stalking off to go find Hank. Even if he played at being angry, Nick was obviously just upset that Connor was in a poor mood in the first place. He wasn't one who enjoyed seeing anyone sulking, least of all his partners. ****  
** **

_…A serial killer of what? Desks are inanimate objects._ ****  
** **

However sardonic the remark, it seemed to do the trick. Connor was never unable to resist questioning the literacy of certain human expressions. ****  
** **

Particularly those that alluded to the topics of life and death. ****  
** **

Nick didn't give a response, but perhaps that was for the best. He was the one out of the three of them who understood human expressions and the wonders of the English language the most, and some of the questioning could lead him to get huffy himself.  ****  
** **

“Connor!” The quick shout drew his attention towards the speaker, someone who was triumphantly grinning at him from across the room. Someone who was familiar in fact - a certain courier that had been arrested and released just a few weeks prior.  ****  
** **

And, perhaps most surprisingly of all, he still had his wings, tucked behind his back but still visible.  ****  
** **

Without any of the casual indifference he put on before, the PC500 known as “Charlie” scurried his way across the squad room, over to the desk Connor was at, before stopping and rolling back and forth on his heels, still grinning at him.  ****  
** **

“Heya. Just thought I'd come over and tell you the good news - Molly is definitely _not_ going to clip you or Dennis's wings.”  ****  
** **

A question may well have been at the forefront of Connor’s mind. Most civilians and/or androids were not simply let _in_ to the station. But he stifled it in favor of a raised eyebrow and reply of, “Meaning you’ll be keeping yours, I assume.” ****  
** **

“Yep!” None of his energy seemed to dwindle, just building up as he continued to bounce on his heels, the hand in his pocket retracting to hold something out to Connor. “I got you somethin’ - well, I mean, Molly got it for me to give to you. You just look like the sorta guy who'd wear them.”  ****  
** **

In his outstretched hand, Charlie had a pair of black-framed sunglasses.  ****  
** **

Nick couldn’t help a dubious squint. ****  
** **

Sunglasses. In this weather? ****  
** **

To his credit, Connor received the gesture with a bemused, but appreciative look. He stood up and half leaned over the desk, reports suddenly forgotten. Carefully, as though he were handling a crucial bit of evidence, he accepted the folded-up frames. ****  
** **

“Thank you, Charlie, but - you know I didn’t expect anything in return?” ****  
** **

“Oh - I know, man, it's not like that.” He shook his head, almost seeming embarrassed by the suggestion. “You just remind me of the cops in the movies me and Jackie watch, and they always wear sunglasses, so you need a pair, too. …And I just sorta wanted to see you again.”  ****  
** **

The last part was half-mumbled, a shy admission that Charlie most likely wanted to be around his newfound idol more, rather than merely casually pass on the gift and call them even.  ****  
** **

Taking another, more studious look at the optical accessory, Connor raised an eyebrow again. “Did you? To what end? The front desk wouldn’t let you by on account of a simple social call.” ****  
** **

“Yeah… I lied to them about that. Said I had some important info or whatever to tell you. They said I had a couple of minutes, unless it was really important.” Charlie shrugged, deflating at the knowledge he would have to leave soon. “I dunno why I wanted to see you, but Molly said I could. So I just decided to come and give you the gift.”  ****  
** **

“And I appreciate it, but unless you have something in the way of an official tip to turn in or a…” Trailing off, whatever despondent expression Charlie seemed to don had an effect. It served the purpose of alleviating Connor’s sour mood quite nicely, too. “How is Miss Strand’s business doing? Have you or any of the other couriers had trouble recently?” ****  
** **

The chase through the flea market hadn’t been a real buzz-worthy news story. A few third party videos had leaked their way online, besides a few minor articles written detailing supposed police harassment and alluding to rises in android-on-android crime. ****  
** **

Whatever fallout the bad press had had upon Charlie’s owner’s business might be in need of addressing, however minor. ****  
** **

“It's been good, actually. Joey is crazy, but that's as usual. So far I'm the only one who's actually seen the inside of your holding cells.” Charlie grinned, good mood seemingly coming back at the change in conversation. “But at least everyone knows we have speedy service?”  ****  
** **

“Speedy, and secure,” Connor nodded. “But given the supplies you’re entrusted with, you haven’t had any difficulties with competitors? Or interference from gangsters or other black market contacts?” ****  
** **

He was fishing - trying to find something to hang the visit on and call it official police business. ****  
** **

Putting his own obligations on hold, Nick kept watching and listening from just around the corner. ****  
** **

“Nah, not with any other competitors. I'm not bragging, but we really are the fastest couriers in Detroit, I'm pretty sure.” Even if it was a fact, and not a way to make himself look good, Charlie still ducked his head, looking uncomfortable to say so. “And it's hard for illegal stuff to try and get a hold of us, when we're fast like that.”  ****  
** **

“Granted, but I was thinking more the reverse. Has no one ever accosted you, tried to steal your goods, on the ground or in the air?” ****  
** **

“Every now and then,” he shrugged, not seeming too concerned with the notion. “But honestly, it's pretty easy to scare most humans off when you've got a wingspan, dude. No other androids have ever tried anything like that, so far. …Don't tell Molly though, she'd probably never let me outside again.”  ****  
** **

“I won’t, if there’s no pressing need. I saw how protective she is of you. If anyone so much as sneezed at you, she’d have them cited for reckless endangerment, right?” ****  
** **

That was a joke. It had to be. The PC500 may have seemed like a know-nothing teen type, but Charlie was far from defenseless. If he ran half as fast as he flew, there was nothing out there quick enough to threaten him. ****  
** **

He let out a groan of quiet laughter, still sounding embarrassed, but pleased as well. “She would try, at least. Probably say they could get me sick, even though that's not possible. You gotta love her, though, for that. Wouldn't ever let anything bad happen to me.”  ****  
** **

“I don’t doubt it. She bought you these after all.” Holding up the sunglasses, Connor seemed to decide there was no more delaying. With one last check, he slid them on, almost far enough back to completely cover his eyes. “...Well? Are they… flattering?” ****  
** **

For a moment there was no more sound from Charlie, who raised a hand to his mouth, before a burst of laughter got through. “Jesus, that's - that's something, I'll give you that. _Definitely_ flattering, Connor. We should all aspire to look half as good as you do now.”  ****  
** **

“I gather they’re… aesthetically pleasing, then. I didn’t think my appearance needed that much improving on.” ****  
** **

“Aw, I'm not calling you ugly.” Charlie shook his head in mock pity, before returning to his grin. “Nah, I'm just sayin’ that they suit you, man. Definitely the right call on my part.”  ****  
** **

Without warning, Nick cut in privately, voice suddenly filling Connor's head with some minor amount of disdain… and perhaps some mild jealousy.  ****  
** **

_Are you still gonna want a follow up on the interviews, or you gonna talk to the kid all day?_ ****  
** **

Rather than respond, the primary moved to take the sunglasses off. “Again, it was kind of you and Miss Strand to think of me, Charlie. I don’t think I’ll be finding much use for them until the weather clears up. But if you’d… keep them safe for me in the meanwhile? We don’t have much in the way of personal effects kept here, that don’t already belong to someone else, that is…” ****  
** **

Now what was he on about? Was he trying to duck behind being pragmatic, or stringing Charlie along on the possibility they might meet again later? ****  
** **

That didn’t follow: Connor was not a casual socializer. He was devout to his job and his partners. What made the courier android so special all of a sudden? Worthy of extra consideration? ****  
** **

Realizing that Connor at least was trying to say this wouldn't be their last meeting, Charlie took them back with some amount of reverence, cradling them in his hands as if they were rendered precious. “Sure, I can keep them safe for you, don't worry about it. …Thanks again, for talkin’ with me, Connor. I know I just sorta barged in here.”  ****  
** **

“Once does no harm, Charlie. I’m pleased to see the verdict leaned in your favor, and the gift was thoughtful. Perhaps when the weather lets up, we’ll have more chances to talk while out and about?” ****  
** **

Forget trying to say. ****  
** **

Now he was practically guaranteeing it. ****  
** **

“Yes!” Charlie said, before realizing he might seem almost too enthusiastic, giving Connor a shy grin as he put the sunglasses back in his pocket. “Yeah, that would be cool. When I'm not delivering stuff I'm almost always out. When the weather gets better… yeah, that would be awesome.”  ****  
** **

Awesome. ****  
** **

To some humans, being regarded as this was the highest praise imaginable. ****  
** **

The virtual opposite of such puzzling terms as ‘beat’. ****  
** **

Did it suddenly matter so much to arrange a future meet with the courier? ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Sequestered on the perches, Dennis tolerated his anxious rambling for all of three minutes, twenty-seven seconds before interrupting: ****  
** **

“Do you have a problem with Connor making friends? Is that it?” ****  
** **

Wings hanging limp, Nick shook his head, before pouting at him. “No! I'm just saying it's out of character for him, Dennis. Right? I'm just wondering what has to be different about Charlie. Why _that_ kid, of all people?”  ****  
** **

With a flustered sigh, Dennis promptly crumpled up the much-abused paper in his hands. He held off on pitching the failed origami attempt long enough to glance sideways at his borderline-unwanted company. “Maybe it was my doing? That one did put us in a unique position. Nothing we’d ever done to apprehend an android almost resulted in the loss of its wings. Perhaps Connor felt more responsible than usual, as a matter of integrity?” ****  
** **

“He does have a thing for helping anyone he can, however he can,” Nick muttered, but didn't seem entirely convinced by the idea. “It's just - weird. He was in such a bad mood, and look at him now! Did you hear him, Dennis? He basically told Charlie they were gonna meet again.”  ****  
** **

Needless as the reminder was, Dennis had not heard the meeting in question. On loan to a neighboring precinct, the sparrow-winged android returned to see the moods of his partners had virtually reversed: their third was sulking up on a perch, while the primary kept on typing, utterly unbothered. ****  
** **

Opting to join said third in relative isolation hadn’t gone as Dennis might have hoped. But at least he was being tolerant enough to hear Nick’s concerns out. ****  
** **

If the weather weren’t still so dismal, he might have flown away at the first chance. ****  
** **

Instead, he humored the rant for what it was. ****  
** **

“So. It’s not that he’s making friends at all. It’s the fact he seems to be making one out of that crow you have an issue with.” ****  
** **

“I guess so. I just don't get what makes Connor want to be friends with him. He's never wanted one before, so why now, and with him?”  ****  
** **

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Dennis sighed. Reclining lengthwise along the perch, stood flat against the wall, wings hanging to either side, he scooted back and repositioned his feet. “Contrary to popular belief, and Lieutenant Anderson, I _don’t_ always know how his mind works.” ****  
** **

“No, it's okay, I just...  wanted to talk.” Nick sighed in turn, but did seem more relaxed than before, albeit still with some grumpiness. “I'm sure it's nothing, it's just interesting that Connor decided he wanted a friend.”  ****  
** **

“Perhaps he doesn’t see it as that - he’s got an ulterior objective. To everyone else, it just looks like he’s trying to make a friend.” ****  
** **

At that thought, Nick perked up with interest. “That's interesting, but… sorta mean. What would that motive be, to be friendly with Charlie? He's still just an android…”  ****  
** **

“Do you always automatically assume the worst?” Smirking, Dennis glanced down. Finding a likely target, he tossed the wadded-up origami paper. The projectile found a home in Detective Collins’ wastebasket. “Recall how we even met this kid. Connor may just think showing him some attention will keep him out of trouble.” ****  
** **

“Yes, I always assume the worst, you know I do!” Nick's irritation was back with a huff, but deflated quickly. “I guess so. Whatever, I just think it's weird, no matter what way you look at it, Dennis.”  ****  
** **

“It’s not that weird.” The smirk morphed into a grin. “You’re jealous. I can tell already.” ****  
** **

“No!” If androids could blush, Nick definitely would've been, face up to glare at Dennis with wide eyes. “That's not true! Just - make your origami. I'm not jealous, or anything like it.”  ****  
** **

It wasn’t half as effective as he hoped. ****  
** **

Scoffing, Dennis plucked the next sheet off the pile. Eyes down, he began folding. “You are. You just won’t admit it yet. If you could, you’d go ask Connor what his intent is without a second thought.” ****  
** **

Flustered, Nick shook his head again, before lowering it back down to his knees. “I'm just not getting in the middle of anything, that's all. Stop talking, just do your origami. I'm just gonna watch.”  ****  
** **

“Pft. Yeah. You do that.” Leaving that topic as pinned for later, Dennis only paused, hearing a distant rumble of thunder. _…Tell me you aren’t hoping the rain keeps up now._ ****  
** **

_Mute it, Dennis. Seriously._ ****  
** **

_I did. Technically, this conversation doesn’t require audible audio._ ****  
** **

_You're - you're beat. Then just stop talking in general, I'm trying to tell what you're making. And for your information,_ no _. I hope it's nice again soon._ ****  
** **

_Yeah? So you can go chase that crow off? …You could pass for a scarecrow, almost._ ****  
** **

Nick raised his head, only to lower it back down onto his knees with a sigh. _You're ridiculous, Dennis. I don't have anything against him. Stop teasing me, I can't help what I look like, or what wings he has._ ****  
** **

_No. …But you have to admit, the similarities are uncanny._ ****  
** **

With a tenacity to make Gavin Reed indirectly proud, Dennis kept ribbing. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Lieutenant Hank Anderson couldn’t get back to his desk quickly enough. Apparently, some kind of event had transpired in the time it took him to return from the courthouse. ****  
** **

The moment he draped his coat over his chair, Nick vaulted down from the rafters overhead. He managed to land without barely a _thud_ . ****  
** **

“Hank? Do you have a minute?” ****  
** **

Blinking, instantly bemused, Anderson held off on actually sitting down. “I can spare one or two. Somethin’ wrong?” ****  
** **

“No, just…” Nick sighed, arms crossed in front of him. “I wanted to tell you something. That kid, Charlie? He came back a little bit ago, while you were out, and talked to Connor.”  ****  
** **

“Charlie…” Repeating the name, Hank recalled just who the android was referring to. “Oh. The one who pulled a Maverick at that flea market?” ****  
** **

“Pulled a - um, I guess so.” Nick blinked, for once perhaps not knowing exactly what he was referencing. He knew some movies, but not most. “Yeah, that one, with the black wings? He came back and talked to Connor.”  ****  
** **

“Hm. If all they did was talk, you wouldn’t be here about to tattle, right?” ****  
** **

“No…” Sheepishly, the lanky android uncrossed his arms, instead opting to clasp his hands together. “But you're supposed to know all of our - stuff, so really I'm just doing my job. And besides, he lied to get in he said.”  ****  
** **

_Reporting in like a good little robot, huh?_ ****  
** **

Resisting the urge to smirk, Hank crossed his own arms. “Define ‘stuff’. What’s got you so agitated?” ****  
** **

“Connor said he was gonna see him again, Hank,” Nick whined, revealing the nature of what really was eating at him. “And I dunno, that's weird, right? We're not supposed to keep contact with people like him - he's just a random android.” ****  
** **

At one time, yes. The PC500 was no different than the rest of those with the same face and voice, working various roles around the city. But until Dennis had happened upon him, aloft without a reason, there hadn’t been cause to notice Charlie. ****  
** **

And now that they had, was that the beginning of the end? There was no getting rid of him after Connor’s impromptu pep talk? ****  
** **

“That depends. Was he here on business? Tryin’ to report a crime or a concern?” ****  
** **

“No, he just came to talk to Connor and give him sunglasses. And then Connor asked him to hold onto them until the next time they met.” Nick shook his head, as if the act bothered him greatly. It probably did, although not for the reasons it should have - more because Connor was reciprocating the friendliness.  ****  
** **

Hank shrugged, already pegging just where all Nick’s distress was stemming from. “And what’s wrong with that? So long as Strand’s property case is decided and done, it isn’t any real breach of procedure. Charlie isn’t a proxy defendant anymore. He’s just another android.” ****  
** **

“But - ” Nick cut himself off with a huff, pouting at Hank and his reasoning. “Fine, whatever. It's just odd, that's what I'm saying. Connor doesn't do friends, and now he wants to be one to Charlie?”  ****  
** **

Precious. That was the word for this behavior. In more ways than one. ****  
** **

Unsurprisingly, the RKs could be possessive about the strangest things. Therein lay the problem in keeping them locked up on Belle-Isle for their first few formative months. Effective as they were on solving cases, the same couldn’t be said for how they coped with change. ****  
** **

First time for everything, wasn’t there? ****  
** **

“It’s not like you can keep him all to yourself, Nick. Connor’s gonna live how he wants. That means socializing with who he wants. Long as no one’s getting hurt, what’s there to worry about?” ****  
** **

“I'm not keeping him to myself, that's not what I'm talking about!” Contrary to his protests, though, Nick sniffled at the thought of Connor having the majority of his attention concentrated elsewhere. “All I'm saying is that - I don't want him to… forget about me, Hank.”  ****  
** **

Overreactions. Yet another thing the RKs demonstrated on a daily basis. Most of them were minor. But in the third’s case, they were all too prevalent. He could get himself worked up over nothing if he tried. ****  
** **

“Now, don’t be like that.” Smirking, Hank reached over to pat the android’s shoulder. “That’s just you jumping to conclusions again. Connor’s got time enough for you besides Charlie. All this is is a little adjustment period. That night you found me at the bar, I didn’t think I’d get used to you half as fast as I have.” ****  
** **

“That's not fair, that was _me._ I wanted us to be friends, Hank. I don't wanna be friends with Charlie.” Still, he relaxed at the words and the touch anyways, sighing with some form of reassured relief. “But… I guess you're right. As long as he doesn't forget about me, I guess it's okay. Even if I don't really like it.”  ****  
** **

“You haven’t even said so much as ‘hello’ to the guy. How do you know you won’t want to be friends? I’d expect Dennis to be the one objectin’ before you.” ****  
** **

“Dennis only teased me when I talked to him about it, and I don't wanna be friends with him, I know it, Hank.” Arms crossed, wings arced up, Nick sounded very much like an upset child declaring what they thought was the end of their world, or a vow they would never break. “I don't wanna talk to him.”  ****  
** **

“Sure. If that’s how you wanna be about it.” Conceding the point, knowing there was no sense in arguing with a bullheaded man, much less android, Hank took his seat. “What about those interviews in the Dearborn case? You make the calls, or does this mean I’m in for another road trip today?” ****  
** **

Maybe it was unfair to point those out now. But witness follow-ups didn’t refresh themselves. ****  
** **

From the sound if it, Nick would need all the distractions in the world to keep from despairing about his partner’s latent special interest chase. ****  
** **

If not the world, at least every one Hank could think of. Those would do fine. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

What was wrong with the receptionists they had? ****  
** **

Among other complaints and points made, this thought seemed to be at the forefront of most of the humans’ minds. Overhearing it on occasion, and then with increasing frequency going into late July, Dennis began to wonder if the rumor mill wasn’t spouting the truth. On the day to day, he had little to do with the machinations that were the front of the station. Unless the weather prohibited flight, he and his fellow police droids came and went by the landing ledges up top. ****  
** **

And as it so happened, the once-nonstop storms began to wane. Thunder and lightning gave way to drizzly, tolerable showers. The power stayed on with little to no concern for keeping the emergency backup generators primed for action. ****  
** **

It couldn’t have cleared sooner. Placated, Connor took to spending his afternoons on patrol, be it on foot or as available airborne backup to any unit begging dispatch for assistance. ****  
** **

More than once, Nick followed him out, leaving Dennis alone to hold down the fort. Delegating their duties amongst themselves, besides working directly with Lieutenant Anderson, had become par for the course. No one Interceptor held the desk in name. They shared it as needed. ****  
** **

The only problem with this setup was that it left whoever was working there directly in the line of fire of one Detective Gavin Reed. The man’s knack for teasing and (occasionally) tormenting Central’s androids was never quite satiated. ****  
** **

So, that given afternoon, when the surly detective promptly sat down in the chair across from him, leaned back, and steepled his fingers, Dennis knew he was in trouble. ****  
** **

He tried to keep his eyes on his computer all the same. ****  
** **

“Tin can,” Gavin began, using his all too favorite moniker of his for Dennis, and all other androids. “Whatcha up to? You hear about the new robot on desk out there? Some freaky stuff, they've been sayin’.”  ****  
** **

Reed seemed to have an obsession with any sort of gossip about the androids around the precinct, frequently making it a point to discuss issues about them, _with_ other androids. Whether he genuinely wanted another opinion, to intimidate them, or simply enjoyed that they couldn't really tell him to shut up, was another thought entirely.  ****  
** **

Debating which of the two questions would lead to the least amount of trouble for him, Dennis opted for the former. What interest was it of his, the new model of receptionist the 7th Precinct had supposedly upgraded to? ****  
** **

“I have heard of it,” he admitted, with careful, default neutrality. “But these reports are my priority right now. There’s a backlog at least a few days behind on filing.” ****  
** **

“You can do that in ten minutes,” Reed said dismissively, an eyebrow raised at him as if he expected to be challenged. “It's rude not to listen when I'm talkin’ to you. Anyways, as I was tryin’ to say, about the new tin can - apparently she's some one-of-a-kind prototype as well.”  ****  
** **

Dennis stopped typing, if only to give the impression he actually found the subject suddenly interesting. He could lie via body language just as convincingly as Connor could through verbal means. “Is it? I didn’t think CyberLife would be field-testing any more prototypes until our tenure was up.” ****  
** **

“Nah, not anythin’ like the three of you. I think it's mostly looks, or somethin’ like it. She's the only one who looks the way she does, some shit like that.” Giving a shake of his head, Reed grinned at him, eyes narrowing just a bit, as if he suddenly had an idea. “You should go talk to her. See how she is for yourself.”  ****  
** **

“But… if it’s only looks that are different, and not it’s functionality, why would I go converse with it?” Frowning, Dennis didn’t immediately go for the challenge bait. This wasn’t anything pertaining to his work. It was Gavin attempting to seed some mischief and discord, as he always seemed to. “It’s probably no more than a replacement, something to improve on the standard-model receptionist.” ****  
** **

“Okay, you’re not hearin’ me.” Standing up, Reed circled the desk, forcibly pulling the android’s chair back, placing his hands on his shoulders. “I mean this, Dents - she’s a real looker. Even has an _accent_ , if you can believe that.” ****  
** **

Tensing, wings preemptively pulled low against his back, Dennis scowled at the computer screen. Dents was yet another nickname among many he did not fancy. But, again, he knew the futility in trying to resist it. ****  
** **

“I repeat, Detective - _why_ should I go converse with it?” ****  
** **

“Because I want you to,” Reed shrugged, patting his shoulder once, roughly. “Trust me, you won't regret it. Why not? You got anythin’ better to do?”  ****  
** **

Reports. Lots and lots of reports. ****  
** **

Momentarily shuttering his eyes, Dennis tried for a happy middle ground: “Say I do this. Will you _please_ leave me to do my work, undisturbed, afterward?” ****  
** **

“Pfft, course I will, Dents! No interruptions at all, just you and your mind-numbing work.”  ****  
** **

“Deal.” Word given, Dennis promptly hiked his wings up, flaring them so as to force Gavin’s hands away. “Where would I find this prototype?” ****  
** **

Scoffing, Gavin raised his hands in mock surrender and stepped away from him. “The front desk. The new receptionist model - you'll know which one I'm talkin’ about when you go look.”  ****  
** **

Sparing the man not one more glance, Dennis stood, pausing to momentarily lock his computer before crossing the room. Dutifully, he ignored the curious looks of other officers from desks all around. ****  
** **

So what if he was taking Reed up on his challenge, with gritted teeth? If it meant at least an hour of peace to do his database work, he could spare five minutes now. ****  
** **

“There he goes, ladies and gents. Wish ‘im luck!” ****  
** **

Scoffing to himself, Dennis was glad for the door that closed behind him. It muffled the voice quite nicely. Those waiting in the lobby could do without hearing his heckler egging things on. ****  
** **

Predictably enough, he drew a few curious looks. Humans waited in the chairs before the front desk, waiting to be helped once beckoned. Most had pre existing appointments to be seen to at given times. ****  
** **

None of them had probably seen an Interceptor before. With his numbered jacket and broad, auburn wings, Dennis found he was the immediately the strangest sight among them. ****  
** **

But he was no stranger a sight than the three receptionists behind the counter, either. ****  
** **

Two were the standard ST300 models. ****  
** **

One was clearly not. ****  
** **

They were of a similar design. Were it not for their LEDs and glowing arm bands, they could both pass for lithe, fair-skinned brunette women. And that was where the similarities ended. The prototype was a few inches shorter than its counterpart, with long, dark hair woven into elaborate braids that lay draped upon one shoulder. It’s face bore a more rounded shape, with large, expressive, blue-green eyes. ****  
** **

The STs wielded the standard pairs of dove wings - gray-brown like those of the common _Zenaida macroura_ . ****  
** **

The prototype sported the designation ST600, and two wings of a similar design, only in a radiant white shade. ****  
** **

A quick scan of its facial components yielded as many new clues as it did not: ****  
** **

_#118 010 023 - registered as “Emilia”. Owner: undisclosed._ ****  
** **

Catching him staring, for perhaps a moment longer than the RK absolutely needed to, it turned and gave a smile. “Hello. Can I help you?” ****  
** **

Reed hadn’t lied. ****  
** **

She _did_ have an accent. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

“There’s a word for this. I think the humans call it… crushing?” ****  
** **

“Kinda like what Charlie’s doing to you?” ****  
** **

Eventually, Connor concluded, he would learn to stop ruminating out loud and within earshot of his ever-sulking third. No offhanded comment made lately went without an instant comparison to the courier from Overclocked. ****  
** **

But for the time being, his stinging remarks were tolerable enough. ****  
** **

He mimed one of Anderson’s shrugs, trying to at least look the part of casual. “Not the… _exact_ same term, but close enough, I see how you’re reminded of him.” ****  
** **

“You shouldn't encourage him, then,” Nick huffed, apparently not able to let go of his new subject of focus. “You'll just get him even more infatuated with you, telling him you'll see him again.”  ****  
** **

“And that’s a bad thing?” ****  
** **

Obviously, according to his taller colleague. But the temptation to bait him into ranting even more fervently was too enticing. ****  
** **

He was funny when he was annoyed. ****  
** **

“Yes! Because then he won't leave you alone, Connor. I mean, he knows where to find you now,” Nick shook his head at him, a pained expression on his face. “And you told him it was okay. I know he's not human, but it's obvious he has some makings of one, and they don't let go of their infatuations easily. Especially when it's not discouraged.”  ****  
** **

“Any time I’ve tried to discourage you from your so-called infatuations has been met with failure. I’m just saving my breath, in Charlie’s case.” ****  
** **

Perhaps the argument would have succeeded, were Connor able to stifle a wry smirk. ****  
** **

But why bother? This stakeout was proving largely uneventful in the meanwhile. ****  
** **

“Besides that, if it troubles you so much, why not talk to him yourself?” ****  
** **

Nick crossed his arms, frowning down at the building below them. “No, I don't want to. I'm just telling you what's gonna happen, Connor. You're gonna want him to leave you alone eventually, but he's not gonna take it well because you made him think you guys will be best friends, or something.”  ****  
** **

“I think you’re assuming the worst - again - and that’s all.” Connor declared, arms still at his sides, barred wings hiked up just far enough to provide built-in shade from the sun. At least the weather had completely cleared up, if only to counterpoint the mess this social malcontent had cast over them. “You haven’t spoken to him. Charlie was smart enough to see when admitting to his crime would result in a lighter sentence for his owner. He’s not unreasonable.” ****  
** **

“Just because he was reasonable the one time doesn't mean he will be always,” Nick pointed out, but it sounded more like he wasn't willing to listen to Connor's reasoning than an actual retort. “And besides, he only did that when he was talking to _you._ ” ****  
** **

So it was just because it was _him_ \- the arresting officer who so happened to know how to expertly perform a classified aerial takedown move? ****  
** **

“Not to preen, but I am a more effective negotiator than you, Nick. And Dennis. And Lieutenant Anderson… at times.” ****  
** **

And at least if he spared a moment to brag the blame would stay squarely on his shoulders. Everything else he seemed to say only further damned Charlie in Nick’s eyes. Might as well try to veer off from the subject, like avoiding bad windsheer. ****  
** **

Before it slammed him face first into the side of a building. ****  
** **

“I know you are. And maybe that helped as well, but you have to admit, Connor - no other freed suspects that you've ever negotiated with have ever come back to see you again, right?”  ****  
** **

“So if it wasn’t Charlie, it would just be someone else. And you’d be just as stubbornly resistant to the idea as you’re being now.” ****  
** **

“No, I'm not! I'm just trying to help you. You're getting yourself a follower right now, and I'm just warning you in case you don't want one.” Arms uncrossed, Nick turned to move the frown away from the building and toward Connor. “And besides, isn't his owner really protective? You don't wanna find yourself in trouble with her if you unknowingly hurt his feelings.”  ****  
** **

“Given my function, I think I can handle Molly Strand.” Flat as that sounded, Connor wasn’t one to shy away from potentially difficult situations. “What about Dennis? I’d be more worried about him, and his supposed-infatuation with the ST prototype.” ****  
** **

Also known as Miss Owner: Undisclosed. To what end was she classified as such? Even the Interceptors didn’t rate such secrecy. They were simply denoted as “property of CyberLife” which happened to be on loan to the DPD. ****  
** **

“I'm worried about that, too, but you're here now, not Dennis.” Nick sulked, clearly not liking either situation. Unlike his partners, who were branching out to new people, he was staying still, unwilling to try and become friends with anyone else.  “So I'll focus on you.”  ****  
** **

Swallowing an urge to sigh, or roll his eyes, or both, Connor crossed his arms. “Focus in _silence_ , then, please.” ****  
** **

“Fine.”  ****  
** **

The old warehouse wasn’t all that enthralling to observe, devoid of people as it currently stood. It might be another hour before the painstaking search warrant was finally signed by the judge and relayed. ****  
** **

But waiting that process out in sullen quiet was preferable to feeding the festering restlessness between them. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Molly had been toying with the idea of a buddy system for awhile. It was one of her many worries for them, that they were too vulnerable. Targeted, they would all too easily be overpowered, going on runs by themselves.  ****  
** **

Charlie wasn't a huge fan of the idea, in any capacity. Maybe it was the damned teenage mindset again, but it made him feel like he was being babied, the idea that he needed someone else to go with him to be safe.  ****  
** **

It was such a lame notion. He didn't _need_ Joey or Trevor to stand guard over him while he delivered medicine, of all things. He wasn't some helpless baby.  ****  
** **

Or so, that used to be his mindset.  ****  
** **

Being cornered in an alley by a gang of four burly men really did wonders in changing his mind to Molly's side.  ****  
** **

Shortcuts were a blessing when you were a courier model, even one as fast as Charlie. There were only so many crowds of people you could slink your way through before you started looking for shortcuts. Most tended to be back alleys through big industrial buildings, which could be slightly dangerous if you weren't on the lookout.  ****  
** **

Charlie usually was, and he had the added advantage of his wings if things got _too_ hairy. But after the recent scare of almost losing them, before he wised up by Connor's suggestion and told the truth, he was determined not to break that rule unless absolutely necessary.  ****  
** **

Too bad one of those absolute situations hit him in the face just a few weeks after his first brush with the law.  ****  
** **

“This really isn't a great time,” he began, snarky even as he was slowly being fenced-in against a brick wall. Walking down the alley had been nothing special for him, until he finally noticed the gang slowly gaining on him. “Maybe we can reschedule this for another time?”  ****  
** **

No laughter. Not that he expected any from the humans, but the fact that no one gave even a twitch of annoyance made a bit of fear rise in him. What the hell did they want with him? The medicine he was carrying?  ****  
** **

At that thought, his hand wandered inside his jacket, to pat the bag he stuffed inside it once, almost as a reassurance. No way in hell was he handing it over to some human thugs looking to intimidate him.  ****  
** **

He went for a more commanding voice, flaring his wings out to the side, but not wide enough that someone could make a grab for them. Charlie didn't put it past one of them to try.  ****  
** **

“Leave me alone, I'm not givin’ you shit.”  ****  
** **

“Hmph. That’s what you think.”  ****  
** **

He scoffed at the half-hearted words, before his eyes skipped down, thirium pump skipping a beat as his mouth suddenly closed. Oh shit, oh _shit_ \- at least one of them was carrying a taser. They obviously had nothing good planned if they were planning on using one of those. An external electric shock never did his systems any favors. ****  
** **

Instead of another remark, the courier swallowed harshly and looked around for an out. There was no clear way out of their grasp, not when they backed him away from the side street he had been planning on taking.  ****  
** **

“What d'you even want?” he asked instead of another sarcastic remark. Because what _would_ they be wanting with him, if not the supplies he was ferrying?  ****  
** **

All he saw were the crackling prongs of the taser swinging up, aimed dead center at his chest - ****  
** **

_Nope! Not today!_ ****  
** **

No way in hell was Charlie getting fucking shocked today. Thankfully there was just enough room for him to dodge the attempted blow, darting backwards until his back hit the wall. With just enough momentum he flung himself to the side of two of the men, evading the hands that lunged to snag his arms. ****  
** **

Whatever these goons wanted, they weren’t gonna get it. If they expected to work over some docile, predictable server, he would have to disappoint them. ****  
** **

Gladly. ****  
** **

And he was chastised for having a teenage personality. Look who's laughing now, right? Well… it still wasn't Charlie, but afterwards he would be able to proudly say his personality is what got him out of the situation. _If_ he got out in the first place, that was.  ****  
** **

He would, he was almost sure of it. He had an advantage over them that no human could match. They couldn't continue to chase him in the air, could they?  ****  
** **

Screw the law. Charlie wasn't about to allow himself to be kidnapped, or worse. After another moment of dodging hands he turned and took a running leap, daring a glance over his shoulder to confirm that the men were still looking to capture their target.  ****  
** **

In the air, however, they couldn't reach him. Even as one made a desperate attempt, he was already righting himself in the air, flying away after a moment without a single hesitation. Within moments, he had cleared the rooftops. ****  
** **

Too close, the whole situation was way too _fucking_ close. What did those men even want with him? It wasn't like someone would pay a ransom for a stolen android. Well, Molly probably would, but there was really no way the men could've known how financially well-endowed his owner was. ****  
** **

No, they wanted him for something else.  ****  
** **

…There was one person who could probably tell him what. Connor could, because if anyone would know, it would be him. Besides, it was a crime they were trying to commit, theft of property and all that, and Connor was law enforcement. Best to go tell him what had happened, right?  ****  
** **

Charlie could also admit to himself that he wanted to see someone comforting who wouldn't freak out when he told them about the incident. Much as he played at indifference, being cornered and almost tased by four men shook him up, more so than he would probably even admit to himself.  ****  
** **

Lucky for him, the police station was a quick flight over, especially for someone as fast as him. It only took a few minutes for him to zero in on it, and the landing docks dotted along its roof for easy flier access.  ****  
** **

Unluckily was the fact that another android was standing on the roof when he landed.   ****  
** **

Charlie recognized him, though. It was the one who asked what 'beat’ meant from his perch, Nick, if he could remember. Landing just a bit away from him, he could finally see what his wings were, a deep blue that were… swallow, if he was guessing right. The long primary feathers almost reached his ankles. ****  
** **

“...Hi,” he said, unable to stop himself from bouncing on his heels with nervous energy. “I'm Charlie, I've got - gotta tell someone something. Can I go in?”  ****  
** **

The taller android looked the part. His jacket and uniform were a near mirror image of Dennis’ and Connor’s. But rather than pretend to tolerate this unauthorized landing with professional indifference, Nick immediately glowered. “You in such a hurry, you forget where the front door is?” ****  
** **

He blinked, taking a step back with a bit of leftover fear. After what nearly happened, Charlie wasn't looking for any fights or sarcastic remarks. He just wanted to get in and tell Connor what happened, then go home to Molly and the others. “No, that's, uh - s-something happened, so I was already flying. I thought I would just use this entrance since it was open.”  ****  
** **

“Authorized personnel only.” Smirking humorlessly, the RK flattened a wing across the door, barring it from his reach. “Sorry, Charlie.” ****  
** **

At that moment, he would usually either have a witty reply, or simply stalk off to the front door, but in the moment he almost felt like crying, pleading with the other android to let him in. “J-Just - this one time, please. I promise, I won't do it again, it was something serious. I need to talk to someone.”  ****  
** **

The smirk dropped. “So? I’m someone. You can talk to _me_ if it’s so urgent.” ****  
** **

If it would get Nick to let him in afterwards, Charlie could at least try to tell him what happened. “I was on a run, and when I went down this little alley, to take a shortcut, this group of men cornered me? One of them had a taser and - and I dunno what would've happened, I got away after that, b-but they tried to grab me, so I needed to tell someone.”  ****  
** **

It was as short a story as he could fathom. The RK still glared through narrowed eyes, wing against the door, hands held in loose fists. The body language epitomized skepticism. ****  
** **

After a tense pause, the officer simply held out one hand, palm up. The faux skin melted back. “You mind if I check your short term recall? See that this isn’t a fib?” ****  
** **

He _did_ mind, sort of. Charlie didn't particularly feel like letting Nick see his memory, even if it was probably standard procedure. All he wanted was to get his story out and go, not have some long, overinvolved process. But if it was what it took to get inside, he could stomach it, just this one time.  ****  
** **

Silently agreeing, Charlie held his own palm up and put it against the other hand, eyes shut with a harsh swallow as he let Nick see.  ****  
** **

The process didn’t hurt. There was only a slight tingle of sensors connecting, program permissions being given, firewalls temporarily lowered. No dramatic gasps or declarations of falsities. If the playback of his near-miss unnerved the officer at all, he kept any reaction firmly held back. ****  
** **

Nick let go before Charlie could reopen his eyes. As he did, he saw the wing draw away from the door. “Just… don’t land yourself on anyone’s desk.” ****  
** **

“Thanks.” With his mumbled reply, Charlie ducked inside, then lept down as quick as he could, scanning the room to find Connor as fast as he could. Thankfully, the android was seated at the same desk as last they spoke, making it easy to walk over to him, clearing his throat to get his attention.  ****  
** **

“Hi, Connor. I - something happened.”  ****  
** **

Belaying any feeling of surprise he might have experienced, the peregrine-winged android glanced up over the top of his monitor, as if Charlie were expected company. ****  
** **

Who knew? He probably was. The RKs undoubtedly enjoyed some fancy private communications frequency. ****  
** **

“Take a seat, before you say anything else.” ****  
** **

It wasn’t an order so much as a welcome suggestion. On second look, he noticed how badly his knees _were_ shaking. ****  
** **

He took the offer gladly, taking the first seat he could, across from Connor. Had he not been so eager to just tell his story, he would've examined the cluttered desk to see what Lieutenant Anderson had laying around.  ****  
** **

“You remember how - how we were talking before?” Charlie began, hands gripping his knees to stop them from trembling. “About being jumped, and all that? Turns out I'm a dumbass, and it could actually happen. It almost did.”  ****  
** **

“Just now?” Connor blinked. “Didn’t you try to call 911?” ****  
** **

Nope. Because he was freaked out and a dumbass and just wanted to get out of the situation. Even if Connor meant it as a general question, Charlie couldn't help but wince with shame. “...No. I dunno why, I got scared I guess, I wasn't thinking. All I could think to do next was come here.”  ****  
** **

“You went airborne, to get away?” ****  
** **

Would he get in trouble, if he told the truth? Connor probably already knew, but the turn of questions was making him feel even more nervous than he already was. This time, it wasn't just him being worried about another order coming in, it really was him trying to save himself. But so soon after his first time in trouble… would he be so readily believed?  ****  
** **

“Yeah,” he said, before adding softly, “Am I in trouble?”  ****  
** **

For an absurd second, he thought to preemptively offer his wrists up for cuffing. ****  
** **

At least if he was in custody he was _safe_ . ****  
** **

Connor stared at him in abject bewilderment before shaking his head. “No. You’re not. No one should find themselves in trouble for trying to avoid it.” ****  
** **

“Oh. Okay.” Charlie managed to get out, shrugging as if the whole situation wasn't a big deal to him at all, just something he happened to have happen to him, before sniffling once. He wasn't gonna _cry_ over anything like this, not in front of Connor. It didn’t matter how close a shave it had been. ****  
** **

Tears were for sissies, right? ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Dennis almost didn’t notice the crow-winged courier at first. Alighting upon one of the landing ledges, he stooped to climb down to one of the perches. ****  
** **

He stopped short at realizing Nick, instead of staying huddled up inside, had banished himself to the outer edge of one such ledge. Adopting his usual wrapped-up stance, he stared aimlessly down at the traffic making its way past the department in a never-ending river. ****  
** **

Hand on the door, Dennis immediately figured something had happened. He raised an eyebrow. “Okay. What’s happened now?” ****  
** **

Nick looked over at him before sighing. “Charlie is back. I think he's talking to Connor right now.” Surprisingly though, he didn't sound nearly as jealous as he had the other time he announced this.  ****  
** **

In fact, he sounded almost apprehensive. ****  
** **

Taking another pause to consider the implications, Dennis folded his wings and sat. He didn’t need to hurry in to see this for himself just yet. “Talking about what? What’s wrong?” ****  
** **

“Something bad happened to him while he was out, almost got - taken by a gang of men,” Nick admitted, before sighing again and hanging his head. “I feel bad. He tried to get into the station, by the roof, and I was mean to him.”  ****  
** **

“Because you didn’t take him seriously at first,” Dennis retorted. “I already know how much you resent the idea of him, never mind his presence.” ****  
** **

“I don't resent him, Dennis. I thought maybe I did, but he seemed scared.” Nick shifted uncomfortably, again resting his chin on his raised knees. “And I didn't believe him anyways. If something actually happened to him, I'm not gonna get huffy and petty about letting him inside.”  ****  
** **

That was reassuring to hear. For as incensed as he had been behaving if late, at least their third did not let it go so far as to compromise his morals. ****  
** **

“What do you mean, he was almost taken?” Dennis prodded for more information, rather than keep kneading a sore spot. “As in… almost abducted?” ****  
** **

“That's what it seemed like, yes. One of them at least had a taser. If he got hit…” Nick trailed off, shivering at the thought. “Poor kid. They didn't want the supply he had, they wanted _him_ , for some reason.”  ****  
** **

“You probed his memory?” Dennis connected the dots, unable to help feeling a bit startled. “Did he consent?” ****  
** **

“What? Of course he did!” Nick started up at the question, eyes wide. “I wouldn't force him to show me, ever. I asked if I could see, and he let me. I wanted to know if he was telling the truth or not.”  ****  
** **

“Relax, Nick, I was only asking.” With a terse wing flick in place of a shrug, Dennis folded his arms. “He’s lucky it was you up here, and not another police android. They wouldn’t have been so accommodating.” ****  
** **

“Oh.” Nick blinked, obviously not expecting that reply. “I guess so… I just hope Connor can sort it out for him. He was pretty shaken, even if he was trying to play it off.”  ****  
** **

_Well. There’s one tic you both have in common, even if you don’t want to say so._ ****  
** **

“If there’s anything to be done, we’ll know soon enough.” ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

By the time he finished speaking, Charlie was trembling worse than Nick ever had. Whatever mental buffer he had put up in favor of flight and finding a safe haven had dissolved to complete nothingness. ****  
** **

And to top it all off, he pulled the small, concise parcel of insulin out of his jacket. “And if these aren’t put back in cold storage soon, they’ll be useless.” ****  
** **

_Not to mention the clinic waiting on them is wondering why their courier is running late._ ****  
** **

Frowning, Connor powered down the computer and stood up. The report was effectively recorded already. “Follow me. We can put them in the break room refrigerator for a short time.” ****  
** **

Charlie gave a short nod, snatching the parcel back and standing up to follow him to the break room. “Thanks. Would suck if this didn't make it because of this mess.” ****  
** **

Luck was on their side. The break room was devoid of personnel. Opening the fridge door, Connor thought of the next step. “Did you want to take time to make some calls? I’m sure Miss Strand has heard from whoever was promised those by now.” ****  
** **

“Should probably call Molly at least, yeah,” Charlie mumbled, frowning down at the floor. “Don't want her to get too worried. Can I do that now?”  ****  
** **

It didn’t take great deductive skill to see he wasn’t feeling up to the task. Among other troublesome emotions, he sounded dejected, morose at the thought he had almost round afoul of real trouble. And the irony wasn’t lost on him, either, compounding the fact his chosen mental disposition wasn’t the best suited for handling such a jarring event. ****  
** **

In short, the kid was sorry his glibness had almost cost him his safety. ****  
** **

“Take a minute, if you need to,” Connor advised, glancing back at the squad room before closing the fridge. “There’s no rush.” ****  
** **

Perhaps there was. But a small lie wouldn’t hurt here. ****  
** **

“Okay,” Charlie wrapped his arms around himself, as if he were trying to force himself to stop trembling, biting his lip as he did so. “Do you… know what they wanted, though? With me?”  ****  
** **

Not without more information. ****  
** **

That was what Connor first thought to say. But a second glance at Charlie’s troubled expression forced him to opt for the next most prudent thought: “I may not, but you don’t have to worry, Charlie. We will be looking into this.” ****  
** **

He nodded, still chewing on his lip as he thought the answer over. “Thanks, Connor, for helping me again and everything. I don't mean to keep annoying you like this.”  ****  
** **

“I find the notion some no-name crew almost abducted you more annoying,” the detective admitted. “Are you certain you’d never seen any of them before?” ****  
** **

“Never. Really, they just sorta snuck up on me.” Charlie shrugged, shifting from foot to foot with leftover anxiety. “It was like they were waiting for something to go by them, or something like that.”  ****  
** **

Or _someone_ . Whatever the men wanted, they were clearly waiting for just the right prey to come along. ****  
** **

“They wouldn’t be the first humans to take androids for granted. Perhaps they thought you would be an easy target, in an out-of-the-way place, with no human owner to be seen…” ****  
** **

The sight of him musing out loud must have been amusing. Charlie sniffled again, before letting out a quiet huff of laughter. “Yeah. Weren't exactly expecting me of all people, thankfully. If I can manage to avoid Dennis for a while in the air, I can do the same with some humans, easy. …I'm gonna call Molly now, if that's all right with you.”  ****  
** **

It was a lucky break, in more ways than one. Nothing, as yet, had broken in cracking the most recent red ice network to spring up across southern Detroit. Staking out warehouses rumored to be stash points, as well as investigating a rash of android disappearances, didn’t seem to be yielding any breakthroughs. ****  
** **

Charlie turning up at the station following one such abduction attempt - it was just the crack needed to split the case wide open. ****  
** **

But for the time being, best let him simply call Miss Strand to let her know why his tracker was giving off a steady ping at 1301 3rd Avenue. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

As it happened, Molly Strand couldn’t be reached. With a network of some two dozen couriers to oversee, Charlie didn’t profess any surprise upon receiving a busy signal. By the fourth try in ten minutes, he began to look concerned in a different light than just his own welfare. ****  
** **

Even as Dennis dropped in, presumably to check and see if the crow was being formally questioned, he stopped short at a sideways glance from the primary. _Not now, Dennis. Something’s happening._ ****  
** **

_As in? Why is he still here?_ ****  
** **

Unknowingly interrupting, Charlie turned back around to face Connor with an even more worried expression at the next unanswered call. “I don't think it's just - busy anymore, Connor. Molly would answer if I kept calling. Something must've happened.”  ****  
** **

Never one to take that news lightly, Dennis’ wings twitched. “Define ‘something’. Has she only just noticed you haven’t checked in?” ****  
** **

Common as they were, couriers on runs never went undetected for long. Their trackers were preset to travel from point A to B and back, with no deviation. Strand’s Overclocked was no exception to the practice. ****  
** **

Charlie shrugged helplessly. “I dunno. She would've called me back, or answered if she noticed I wasn't where I'm supposed to be. Something else must be happening if she hasn't so far, and it must be serious.” ****  
** **

Serious, but as yet it had evaded the detection of the police. Momentarily, Connor paid a listen to the station’s wireless dispatch chatter. Only a portion of them went out over the public speaker. Nothing indicative of an accident or altercation involving Miss Strand, her associate who went by Torrance, or - ****  
** **

_“Any available unit, possible trespass, Zug Island Refinery - ”_ ****  
** **

LED flashing, Charlie gave a start. His calls were finally reciprocated. “Molly! I’ve been trying to… no… no, I haven’t - hey, s-slow down. I can’t understand y… Why would he be there? I don’t know, I was almost - ” ****  
** **

By the next flinch he made, and the abrupt stop to his words, she had disconnected as fast as she had called. ****  
** **

Finding no incoming emergency call a match with that fragmented conversation, Connor folded his arms. “Is that also not like her, to cut you off?” ****  
** **

Charlie shook his head, squeezing his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “She's never really - she wouldn't hang up if it wasn't really serious. Someone else is somewhere they're not supposed to be, I think. Henry is on… an island, she said. Zug Island?”  ****  
** **

Dennis squinted. _So quickly? Who could she have been trying to call, if not to report a missing android?_ ****  
** **

“That’s only fifteen minutes away,” Connor calculated. “By air. Who’s Henry? Another courier?” ****  
** **

“Yeah, he's another courier. He's not - we don't deliver to Zug Island, or anything like that, Connor. Why would he be there?”  ****  
** **

The question was almost entirely rhetorical. Zug Island was an automated facility, through and through. Amidst various functions it carried out over the years, for the past decade it had served as the premier waste water treatment plant. The only personnel to be found there was synthetic. ****  
** **

A trespass call goes out, seconds after a courier’s tracker popped up there? ****  
** **

_Why_ was the question in and of itself. ****  
** **

“You ought to collect the insulin and return to your depot, Charlie. Miss Strand has probably been in a panic, trying to locate and account for all of you, if something bad has happened to Henry.” ****  
** **

“I'm not…” Charlie trailed off, before taking a deep breath to steady himself. “But it's Henry, she must be going where he is. If I go to Zug Island, I can meet her there?”  ****  
** **

“Did she _say_ that’s where she was going, explicitly?” Dennis asked, brows furrowed. “It’d be more of a burden off her mind if you went home, to safety.” ****  
** **

The words were obviously meant to alleviate his feelings, but it only served to make Charlie more panicky. “No, I - Molly doesn't deal well with stress sometimes, I have to be there for her, y-you don't understand.”  ****  
** **

Now wasn’t the time to argue. But if what awaited them on Zug Island _was_ a crime scene, there wasn’t time to do anything else except get there. ****  
** **

Eyes lifting, Connor tried the commlink. _Nick?_ ****  
** **

_Yes?_ Nick replied almost instantly, as if he had been expecting it.  ****  
** **

_I’m forwarding you a set of coordinates. A call just came in. One of us needs to get there, stat._ ****  
** **

If he wanted to question, for once in his short life Nick didn't give into the urge. _Got it. I'll let you know when I get there, and what's happening._ ****  
** **

_Just keep our uplink open. That should suffice._ ****  
** **

_Sounds good to me_ . He didn't say anything else, making it obvious he was on his way over.  ****  
** **

All the more evident was the slight overlaid image that emerged at the edges of Connor’s vision. The uplink interface, like the tiled windows on a computer screen, could be brought up at a moment’s notice. ****  
** **

Uninvited as he was to this plan, Dennis’ attentions stayed on keeping Charlie calm and - even more important - stationary. “-keeping your wings from getting pulled off. She wouldn’t want you to go putting yourself in more danger, even on her account.” ****  
** **

Eyes wide and anxious, Charlie shrugged and sniffled, but didn't seem to be in any danger of suddenly taking off to the island. “I dunno, I guess so. But Molly, she gets worked up real easy, I don't want her to be alone, either.”  ****  
** **

“What about Miss Torrance? Have you tried contacting her?” ****  
** **

“...No,” he admitted, showing his preference for just who he thought of more. “I just tried Molly.”  ****  
** **

Dennis frowned, resorting to plying the courier with questions. Keeping him thinking of answers would keep him from worrying. “Tell us more about Henry, then. What does he look like? Does he specialize in any types of deliveries?” ****  
** **

“U-Um, he has dark skin, and brown eyes, and black hair. He's probably as tall as you, Connor, and he doesn't specialize in anything, really, we just take whatever deliveries they give us. But we _don't_ deliver to Zug Island, I know that much.”  ****  
** **

“Is he a skilled flier, like you? Has he ever had trouble with clients, been harassed by anyone?” ****  
** **

“He's a good flier. Not as much as me, or Joey or Trev, but skilled. And I'm sure he's had trouble with clients, we've all been harassed once or twice. Not enough to need the police or anything.”  ****  
** **

“What about today? When was the last time you saw him?” ****  
** **

Charlie was quiet for a moment as he thought his answer over. “This morning, before any of the first runs. We all go online around the same time, so I think we just said hi, before heading out.”  ****  
** **

“And there was nothing amiss, about his behavior?” Connor asked, even as the uplink window chimed for attention. “He wouldn’t just up and run away? Vanish without notice?” ****  
** **

“No, never. I know sometimes androids run because their owners aren't good, but Molly is amazing, to all of us.” Charlie hesitated, then shrugged again. “Maybe it's dumb, but we're like a family. Henry wouldn't leave us without an explanation.” ****  
** **

It wasn’t so dumb a notion. Androids were created by humans. Was it any surprise they would adapt and conform into the same kinds of social structures? ****  
** **

Perhaps that was just the teenage predisposition subroutine thinking of it as dumb. The same way Connor thought how foolhardy it was for Dennis to attempt taking up origami, as a means to cope with frustration. Or the quiet disdain with which he thought of Nick’s propensity for getting stuck in doors on account of his poorly-postured wings. ****  
** **

But the point still stood: regardless of how Charlie found the idea of family, it was a concept of great importance. ****  
** **

The uplink chimed again - a sustained beep. ****  
** **

Dennis’ critical expression eased. “Could someone from the market case be involved? Did anyone give you or your colleagues trouble before the settlement was decided on?” ****  
** **

Exhausting as the inquiries were rapidly becoming, if they could only stall until Nick reported in - ****  
** **

_Connor! Answer the request, please. You need to - to see this._ ****  
** **

Startled, the primary blinked, sharply. _Why? What’s wrong?_ ****  
** **

For a fifteen minute run, that was speedy work for any android with passerine-class wings. ****  
** **

Perhaps the winds were blowing strong in that direction today. ****  
** **

_Just_ **_look_ ** _. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you._ ****  
** **

Blinking again, bringing the screen up across his eyes, he saw the blue skies above a gray, urban, catwalk-framed horizon. Between the fenced-in complex and his vantage point, a sprawling expanse of dirt, littered with trash, stretched off to either side. ****  
** **

There were two humanoid figures besides. ****  
** **

One dark-skinned body lay sprawled in one dirt and debris, one gray-black wing crushed beneath its shoulder. The other stood, half crumpled and broken, pointing up into the air. The face remained turned away. ****  
** **

Caught poised over said body, one hand pressed against its head, the second winged figure stared back in abject surprise. ****  
** **

For a few suspended moments, Connor thought he was looking into a mirror. Within seconds, the stranger’s facial features were mapped out, declared identical to his own. ****  
** **

Except for the blue-gray eyes, pearlescent white wings, and the model name stitched into the black/white jacket, it was a perfect match. ****  
** **

RK **900**

#313 248 317 -89 ** **  
** **

The silence over the commlink must have been palpable. Nick quantified their unanimous reaction in one sentence: ****  
** **

_Well, whoever_ this _is, his story is bound to be… interesting._


End file.
